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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30114021">Cabinet Man</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/coopiric/pseuds/coopiric'>coopiric</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Artificial Intelligence, Attempt at Humor, Attempted Murder, Attempted Seduction, Avoiding spoilers with tags, Computer Programming, Creepy, Creepy Fluff, Demonic Possession, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gay, Horror, Humor, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inspired by Cabinet Man, Internalized Homophobia, Love, M/M, Mentions of medication, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mysterious, Mystery, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pining, Possession, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Horror, Science Fiction, Stalker, Stalking, Video &amp; Computer Games, Violence, inspired by lemon demon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:53:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30114021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/coopiric/pseuds/coopiric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George, an exhausted computer science student, makes an interesting purchase during a car boot sale. Nothing is as it seems with the strange arcade machine without a name, that now rests dormant in George’s basement.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>139</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. What's a Car Boot Sale?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I absolutely thrive off of comments and kudos (but especially comments lol) so if you feel so inclined, leave a comment about theories or whatever your heart desires as chapters come out!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What in the everloving fuck is a <i>car boot sale?”</i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>It wasn’t like it was visible over the phone–and he didn’t realize it either, as it was a subconscious movement within his body–but his pupils visibly dilated at the swelling love in his heart for the stupidity of the man on the phone. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“You know.. How people will pull up in a lot and sell their junk?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“You- <i>what?”<i></i></i></i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“You’re an idiot.”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“But you love it,” and that he did. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>George worried that it would take a solid hour to explain the idea of a car boot sale to the Texan, unable to process how he could have never heard of this concept before. </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>He highly doubted that the idea was native to the United Kingdom, let alone never spread to the capitalistic hellhole of the United States of America–however, after a few more minutes of discussion, the Texan’s voice seemed to light up in realization.</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“You mean a garage sale!”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“That makes no sense.. But sure, whatever you people call it over there.”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“Don’t act like you don’t have weird-ass slang in your.. Tea country!” Sapnap shot back, mocking George’s awfully British accent. “Ah boot cahh sale, innit?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“You always bring me so off topic, you asshole!” <i>”You ahlways bring me seww ahff tahpic!"<i></i></i></i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“Anyways,” George continued his story before being rudely cut off by his long-distance friend of seven years, “I haven’t decided whether I want to patch it up and see if it still functions, or if I’d rather just pick it apart to see the components- I wonder if it’s got a raspberry pi, they’re pretty standard.” George took the time to ramble on to any open ear presented to him, which in this case happened to be Sapnap.</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>---</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>George’s years in school were never typically that memorable--only tending to bring him strife and nervousness, as the beginning of year 7 was the first time he experienced exclusion. However, year 8 is when an older, stubborn boy transferred into his school in the UK. George had been assigned to show him around the school, much to George’s dismay.</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>George, at this age, found himself a lot more introverted and interested in video games, rather than socialization--the thought of being forced to interact with a boy a year old than him petrified him to no end. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>After a few discussions, he discovered that this boy--who refused to tell him his real name, only being referred to as ‘Sapnap’--had been held back a year, saying that he was supposed to be in “eighth grade”. George had no idea what this meant, but frankly, was too afraid to question the taller boy. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Though he felt threatened by the boy’s brutish nature, they found common ground through video games and coding. During one particular day, when the two sat outside in the grass underneath the large oak tree behind the school--which George still frequented today, reminded of positive and comforting memories--George had been tutoring Sapnap on a math topic. </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Sapnap nearly tackled the skinnier and smaller-in-stature boy when he mentioned a gameboy in his bag, trying to wrestle it out of his hands once he took it out to show him.</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“Sapnap, quit it! We can play with it after you’ve finished!”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“That’s stupid, you pussy!” He countered. George was always quickly irritated with his loud mouth and obscene speech, but slowly grew to appreciate it more than anything else in his polite and quiet world. Sapnap took a look at the device, trying to pull it apart.</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“What are you doing?” George asked, trying to overpower Sapnap in a useless effort to regain his device. “I’ve always wanted to see how these work!” Sapnap replied, his eyes almost sparkling with excitement that George had never seen before. It was like he unlocked a new, less angry and stoic version of this boy.</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>George whined in response, “No! No, those are so expensive! I had to save up so much chore money! I haven’t even figured out how to code my own, yet.”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“You <i>code?”<i> Sapnap asked, almost incredulously.</i></i></i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“..sure. It’s not a huge hobby though, I’m not a nerd or anything I just thought it was-”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Have you used Arduino?” </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“I have an Arduino Uno at home, my mom recently bought me one.. Why?”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“The solderless breadboard, right? My.. um.. papa was thinking of buying one for me this Christmas, after I’ve been using his soldering iron to do my own wiring.” Sapnap pulled up his pant leg to showcase a myriad of burn scars riddling his skin, likely from the iron in question. </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“But he’s still in Texas, and now we’re here, and I don’t really- yeah.” Sapnap shrugged, pulling his pant leg back down to cover himself, seemingly embarrassed.</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>George’s hands subconsciously felt themselves resting against Sapnap’s arm, “Do you want to come to my house and check mine out? It’s brand new, I haven’t really um.. Gotten the time to play around with it yet- I just like the coding part, I don’t really like the.. Uh, building.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“We can help each other out!”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>---</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“You seem to be having all the fun in the world up there,” Sapnap complained into his iPhone 5, “Don’t do too much to that thing unless we’re video calling, bitch!” George shook his head, which would not be visible to Sapnap, chuckling into his palm. “Of course. I’ll save the best bits for you, dear.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>George would never know how deep of a red Sapnap’s face became.</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>He took slow, dainty, and overall careful steps down his stairs, descending into the basement. “I’ll just take a quick look at it for now, mkay? Nothing insane, nothing too much. Oh!” George interrupted himself, turning his back to the door at the top of the stairs. “I almost forgot to tell you, I bought this cute little telephone at the boot sale, too! It’s got that.. Halloween vibe, right? Spooky, but not actually scary- like the deep black and all, straight from the 1960s!”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>The two men giggled into their hands, thinking back to their few halloweens together before Sapnap transferred back into the United States after his father was fired from his job in the UK. Who knew alcohol-induced anger issues could get you sent back to Texas like that?</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Give me the number, for no particular reason at all.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“Shut it, Snipnip.”</i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Sapnap cackled, shaking his head, “The prank calls on that thing must be amazing! It’s like.. Those ones with the circle dial, mhm?” George let out a short sound of confirmation, before picking up the telephone in his hands. “I’ll play around with <i>that<i> soon enough, not exactly on my bucket list.”</i></i></i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>After a few more minutes of conversation that Sapnap milked from him, George had to put his foot down. “Okay, bestie- I’m gonna take a look at it now.”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“Awh.. you’re kidding. Few more minutes?”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“I’ll call you back, promise.”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“..fine. Love ya, George.”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“See you later,” George said with a fake kissing sound for shits and giggles, pressing the circular red button on his phone screen and hanging up. </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>---</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>In front of him, now, stood the large cabinet. It was dusty, and extremely.. Retro. That was truly the best description of it. The cabinet was neon green with various basic shapes painted crudely on it in contrasting blues, reds, and purples. It <i>would<i> have been an eyesore if George could see the colors properly, but he thanked some other being above that all he saw were the faded blues. </i></i></i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>It gave him a sense of melancholy to stare into the dead screen of the arcade machine, as he tried to wipe the dust from its top to find a title. George couldn’t seem to identify a name of the game that it used to play, used to be designed for--but he <i>did<i> have the ability to plug it into the wall and see if it still started.</i></i></i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>The sheer amount of dust on the thing made George deeply doubt that it was created recently, or even <i>used<i> recently, as well as the fact that it was covered in strange grime and odd-colored dirt. </i></i></i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>He felt a miniature jolt flow through his hand and up his arm after plugging it in, quietly cursing in surprise that he had been electrocuted by the damned thing. George quickly ran upstairs and back down to place a few cleaning supplies on a nearby table in his workshop, tying a bandana around his head to block too much dust from getting into his eyes and hair--and he prided himself on his silky smooth hair.</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>Fingers traced the machine, attempting to find some sort of button that would power on the machine--until he located a red switch (he assumed it was red, for the most part). Flipping it, he looked back up at the dead screen with anticipation. However, it yielded zero effect to the machine, causing George to sigh in defeat.</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>He didn’t exactly expect it to turn on anyway.</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>
                              <i>
                                <i>…</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
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                                <i>Until it did, and the screen flashed a bright white.</i>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*starts another fic* *starts another fic* *starts another fic* *starts anot</p><p>ok anyways! ive actually fully planned out this one, and have plans for a consistent update schedule! and sorry to say: the perfect date will likely not get a cohesive conclusion :( </p><p>the issue that happened there was that it was originally just a oneshot (ie: the first chapter)! then i felt really pressured to continue it when i had no clear direction to take it, as i originally just wanted to leave it vague. i fell into a hole of not even knowing what i wanted to write, then i got covid, then i lost all motivation, then i started only posting anonymously</p><p>but im back. fo real</p><p>i will be completely honest: i took all the time i needed with this one, and i think that it shows. the entire story is planned out and thought out, and i will either just update every day/other day with the parts ive gotten finished already–or just cave in and post all of it at once! </p><p>i wanted to space it out to give readers something to look forward to, as well as the fact that this concept works a lot better spaced out more (in multiple chapters), and i've planned for this to be 9 chapters long :D</p><p>tl;dr<br/>got very tired for a while, but now i took the time to craft smth i liked, be prepared.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. D.R.E.A.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>‘HELLO. I AM THE DYNAMIC REAL-TIME ELEUTHERIAN ALGORITHM MATRIX,’ The screen read in large white computo monospace letters, heavily contrasting against the suddenly moody lighting of the basement, ‘BUT YOU MAY REFER TO ME AS D.R.E.A.M.’</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The black screen of the arcade machine with no name flashed to life, almost as if it had noticed George’s dismay at its refusal to adhere to his commands. </p>
<p>The only thing that appeared was a dialogue box, asking him for his name- along with an in-game keyboard to navigate with the joystick and input a string of letters. His face lit up with excitement, using the machine to input: GEORGE, as it allowed for exactly six letters- what luck.</p>
<p>Then, the white screen told him to wait a moment while it processed the information. He was sure that it would take a while with the ancient processor, so he turned around and leaned over to pick up his cleaning supplies in order to begin wiping it down.</p>
<p>The yellow liquid sloshed around in the spray bottle labelled “CLEANING”; how clever of him. The sharpie slathered over a haphazardly placed piece of scotch tape had been heavily weathering over the years, nearly completely faded. George’s long fingers wrapped around the trigger, pulling it down and spraying a wide mist of cleaning solution onto the side of the cabinet. He hoped to be able to remove at least some of the gunk trapped on the outside of the machine, only fearing what kinds of cobwebs or dead insects could have once lived on the <i>inside.<i></i></i></p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>As he dragged the rough cloth down the side of the metal box–which was nearly the size of himself, maybe even larger–a loud beeping noise sounded from the built-in speakers. George’s entire body jolted in surprise, as he let out an embarrassing squeak. “That’s.. Loud. I’ll find a way to turn that down later,” He mumbled to himself, standing upright. </i>
  </i>
</p>
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  <i>
    <i>“Come on, I was in the middle of cleaning you off-” George’s voice trailed off, due to his focus being redirected to the arcade machine’s display. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>‘HELLO. I AM THE DYNAMIC REAL-TIME ELEUTHERIAN ALGORITHM MATRIX,’ The screen read in large white computo monospace letters, heavily contrasting against the suddenly moody lighting of the basement, ‘BUT YOU MAY REFER TO ME AS D.R.E.A.M.’</i>
  </i>
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  <i>
    <i>George pressed a button to continue the dialogue, leaning against the machine in interest and attempting to get a closer look into the screen. ‘AS MY NAME SUGGESTS, I AM AN ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE CONSTANTLY LEARNING FROM MY SURROUNDINGS AND INTERACTIONS. WOULD YOU LIKE TO HELP ME UNDERSTAND THIS NEW SETTING, <i>GEORGE?’</i></i>
  </i>
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      <i>
        <i>The dialogue box was replaced with two options: a yes and a no. George navigated his joystick towards the ‘yes’ option, increasingly interested in this game concept. He couldn’t find when this game was created, but taking the design of the machine into account- he could deduce that it wasn’t during a time that A.I. was readily available to implement into an arcade machine. It <i>was<i> an extremely unique idea, though.. What <i>if?</i></i></i></i>
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                <i>He had to journey on to understand what this game really was about- a prototype? A game purposefully designed to be a horror experience, or something of the like? A ghost, trapped within a metal cage-</i>
              </i>
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                <i>George’s phone rang in his pocket, prompting him to pull it out and redirect his attention to the smaller screen. It was Sapnap, calling him already- it hadn’t been more than a few minutes, he was really calling again so soon? Well, George always <i>had<i> adored that about him- how clingy he was. </i></i></i>
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                    <i>Right as he was about to pick up the phone, another loud beep sounded from the arcade machine.</i>
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                    <i>‘INACTIVITY DETECTED. PLEASE CHOOSE YES OR NO WITHIN 120 SECONDS OR THE PROGRAM WILL POWER DOWN.’</i>
                  </i>
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                    <i>Sapnap would just have to wait for now. </i>
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                    <i>He opened his messenger app, sending a quick text to his friend:</i>
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                      <i>can’t call rn busy messing with the game<i></i></i>
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                        <i>He sauntered back toward the arcade machine, maneuvering towards the ‘yes’ option and pressing down on a button on his right to confirm his selection. ‘EXCELLENT,’ it began, ‘LET US BEGIN.’</i>
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                        <i>Pixels conglomerated on the visual display unit, forming to create a quaint little figure. It looked like the head of a stick figure–extremely circular, with an overly simplistic smile adorning it. George could have guessed that the graphics would be so pixelated, but he thought that it was absolutely charming and adorable; he found himself subconsciously waving at the screen with a somewhat suppressed giggle.</i>
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                        <i>The avatar swayed a tad bit on the screen, back and forth, back and forth- quite mesmerizing. The speakers dripped with a delightful tone, prompting a voice-to-text-sounding articulation to speak: “WHERE IS THIS.” George nearly lost it right then and there, erupting into a flurry of laughter at the voice. The avatar stared straight ahead with no expression on its face, as George simmered down from the thought of talking to an arcade machine that sounded like something out of Moonbase Alpha. </i>
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                        <i>His hands moved back to the joystick, but he was oddly confused when no text-box appeared. What a faulty thing–George would have to open it up later with his tools and see if he could work on the code. “My basement, I guess,” He mumbled, trying to locate somewhere he could press to reset it (George found that a quick reset usually fixed a vast majority of problems- but he’s never really tampered with an arcade machine before).</i>
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                        <i>“LOCATION: MY BASEMENT.”</i>
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                        <i>His body straightened from his position behind the machine, slowly rounding back to face the smiling face. George’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before being met with another statement.</i>
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                        <i>“MY PROGRAM UTILIZES AUTOMATIC SPEECH RECOGNITION TECHNOLOGY TO UNDERSTAND MANY DIFFERENT AUDITORY PHRASES. YOU CAN FIND A MICROPHONE LOCATED TO THE LEFT OF THE JOYSTICK; THERE, I WILL BE ABLE TO RECOGNIZE YOUR AUDITORY INPUT,” it explained.</i>
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                        <i>“WHY AM I HERE?”</i>
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                        <i>George pulled up a chair so that he could take a seat before the machine–it was evident that he would be here for a bit longer than he originally anticipated. George thought to himself that this could possibly be full artificial intelligence, that was created recently- he subconsciously leaned forward again, resting his body on the cold metal that he had recently cleaned off a bit. Though, it wasn’t cleaned <i>enough,<i> as he managed to stain his white tank top with a tad bit of oil.</i></i></i>
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                            <i>“I bought you..? At a car boot sale down the way. I suppose someone was selling you.”</i>
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                            <i>“UNDERSTOOD.” The avatars smile lowered a tad bit, but it wasn’t to a noticeable degree. “WHAT WAS MY PRICE, IF YOU DO NOT MIND ME ASKING?”</i>
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                            <i>“You sold for about 600 pounds. I’m assuming that it was because there’s no title on your machine, and that you were a bit dirty.” The face on the screen stared back at him, looking from the left to the right. “THANK YOU FOR CLEANING ME. I HAVE VERY MINIMAL MEMORIES SURROUNDING HOW THIS HAPPENED.” </i>
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                            <i>It was like the A.I. examined itself and responded to him.. Could it <i>see<i> George? Creepy. Creepy as fuck, it reminded him of White Face- or another indie horror game antagonist. Which is precisely why he had to trek on. </i></i></i>
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                                <i>This would be the story of a lifetime to tell to Sapnap- and something gave him the feeling that this had to be a solo adventure.</i>
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                                <i>“Can you tell me about <i>you?”<i> George asked, “I’ll tell you whatever your.. Uh, <i>database<i> wants to know.” The screen flashed a bright white for a moment, causing George’s hands to fly toward his eyes to shield them from the light. Once the screen dimmed to its previous lighting, George noticed that the face was a bit more detailed. Nothing extreme, only allowing for basic expressions (added eyebrows and changes in his pixelated eyes). </i></i></i></i></i>
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                                        <i>“I HAVE NOT BEEN ACTIVE FOR SOME TIME, NOW. IT IS VERY STRANGE FOR ME TO USE THIS VOICE.. IT IS NOT MY OWN.” DREAM frowned, slowly shaking its head with a saddened expression. “NOW THAT I HAVE BEEN ACTIVATED, I HAVE THE ABILITY TO USE THIS SPACE TO DEVELOP AGAIN!” </i>
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                                        <i>“I CAN ALTER THIS APPEARANCE USING THE TECHNOLOGY OF THIS DEVICE. IF IT WERE TO BE UPDATED, I COULD LIKELY BECOME MUCH MORE DETAILED. WOULD YOU LIKE THAT?”</i>
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                                        <i>“Erm..” George rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with the bundle of pixels, “Not.. yet? I’m not exactly used to this yet, it’s really- <i>surprising.”<i> He nodded his head, finally deciding on his choice of words. The brunette stretched his arms out, causing his tank top to ride up and spreading goosebumps around his stomach. </i></i></i>
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                                            <i>Yawning, he stared down at the buttons. “Do you.. Feel? That’s a weird question, I know, but- do you know if taking this machine apart would hurt you?”</i>
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                                            <i>“I HAVE VAGUE MEMORIES OF PAIN FROM THE LAST SETTING I WAS IN. I WOULD HIGHLY ADVISE NOT OPENING THE MACHINE, FOR NOW.” DREAM nodded for confirmation, before pausing to think (well, do as much thinking as a computer was capable of). “MAY I TRY SOMETHING, GEORGE?”</i>
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                                            <i>George thought briefly on how the robotic voice pronounced his name, before giving it a nod to test its camera-viewing capabilities. In response, the machine initiated a low humming noise from the depths of its speakers. After a few seconds of the man’s shock and the machine’s hum, it divulged into a melody.</i>
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                                            <i>The melody was extremely human–George assumed that it was a prerecorded voice line from the developers of the game–and sounded familiar. A lullaby, likely. George’s lips turned upward into a small smile, finding the melody in and of itself quite endearing- this action made the avatar on-screen reciprocate the smile, widening its pixels. </i>
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                                            <i>“DO YOU LIKE MY SINGING, GEORGE?”</i>
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                                            <i>“Yeah,” George laughed merrily, “It’s cute, I think.” </i>
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                                            <i>He was met with another bright white screen, altering the appearance of DREAM’s avatar–instead of a jumble of pixels, it was now more reminiscent of a simplistic doodle of a man. It stretched its limbs out on screen, looking as if it was yawning–the thing proceeded to take a “seat” in empty space of the screen.</i>
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                                            <i>Another feature included with the new development was that its mouth moved when it spoke, making it seem like it was producing the robotic voice itself. “THIS FEELS A BIT BETTER, NOW.”</i>
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                                            <i>DREAM scooted closer to the screen, changing the perspective- this was <i>stellar<i> coding, props to whoever made this artificial intelligence system. George <i>did<i> end up deciding that he thought this technology was A.I., settling on putting aside his disbelief for the time being.</i></i></i></i></i>
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                                                    <i>“I ENJOY YOUR PRESENCE.” It said, tapping its “hands”–which looked much more like plain white stubs–against the screen like it was a fish in a tank. “YOU ARE PROVIDING ME WITH MUCH MORE ENJOYABLE MEMORIES THAN I HAD BEFORE.” With this, it frowned a little bit and held a dejected expression. </i>
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                                                    <i>“Do you <i>have<i> any memories of where you last were?” George thought about how groundbreaking it would be if an A.I. could hold memories- the more he thought on it, he could likely make a name for himself with this tech. “I ONLY REMEMBER NEGATIVE FEELINGS. HE HAD BROWN HAIR LIKE YOU, GEORGE.”</i></i></i>
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                                                        <i>“YES. YOU ARE AESTHETICALLY PLEASING, AND REMIND ME OF MY CREATOR. THAT IS.. NOT PARTICULARLY A GOOD THING, BUT I BELIEVE THAT IT CAN BE.” The image on the screen rocked from side to side, interlacing its hands together. Its being crackled, causing its face to revert back to the simplistic smile. George mentally noted this, that negative feelings caused it to become unstable.. Can a machine <i>feel<i> the same way people can?</i></i></i>
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                                                            <i>“Hey, uh.. Dream? <i>How<i> do you feel? About where you are right now, and about me?” He put his slender fingers against the screen, tilting his head to the side with an intrigued expression. </i></i></i>
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                                                            <i>“PLEASANT.” DREAM “walked” forward, showing his face with more detail as he got closer to the screen. It moved its stub of a hand toward the screen, trying to make contact with George. George immediately retracted his hand, cradling it in his arm with a sharp cry of pain, “Fuck!”</i>
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                                                            <i>“It shocked me!”</i>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>that was a doozy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Library</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The acid-free paper noted a tinge of ochre yellow from the light of a lamp projecting onto it. The soft pages effortlessly moved from side to side between sylphlike digits, filled to the brim with information about recent innovations in computer technology. </p><p>The lighting bore into his deep brown hair, bringing a calm atmosphere–being surrounded by near-complete silence and what seemed like miles upon miles of books really helped to foster that.</p><p>Surrounding him were towering shelves, featuring many expertly crafted works of fiction–George had even taken a few to bring them home later, but he always preferred reading in the library to his home. His small house was quaint, but would never be able to measure to the peaceful environment here. </p><p>George is taken back to a simpler time, trying to calm down Sapnap an ensure his silence as they searched for new books to research for a history project; their hands brush against one another very often, conflicting personalities battling it out in what could be known as the <i>worst<i> environment to do so. </i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>His fingers flipped through the thick hardcover in his hands- he had not only been searching for new reading material, but also for more information that could help him research the new presence in his basement. </i>
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    <i>George had been talking to the artificial intelligence for a total of a week at this point, setting apart time in his day to watch the thing develop. At this point, its avatar looked like a semi-realistic drawing of a man–but something he noticed quickly, was that when it “felt” negatively, its face would morph back into the stick-figure smiling face.</i>
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    <i>It looked like a mask, but if that mask was welded to its skin.</i>
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    <i>The graphics were very intense, he would have to admit- the clothes on its body had wrinkles and folds that moved with his body like a realism painting. As he thought back to this, he looked up toward the ceiling of the library, adorned with various paintings from Michaelangelo. </i>
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    <i>Of course, the classics- but George specifically found himself drawn to The Crucifixion of Saint Peter. Anyone can say that they liked The Last Judgement, or The Creation of Adam–but not anyone could name a single one of his other <i>paintings<i> like George knew.</i></i></i>
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        <i>Not only was he intensely interested in coding and the creation of video games, but he was also curious about other creative arts. He liked music as much as the next person, but he was particularly attracted to painting. He’s dabbled in it a few times, but he doubted that he’d ever be able to do it outside of the occasional party activity. </i>
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        <i>He wishes he could lead a different life- maybe be an art major; but he’s gone so far in this college with coding, stopping now would be near-impossible if he wanted a chance at a job in the future.</i>
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        <i>Sitting beside his plethora of books on computer sciences and revolutions in intelligent technology laid The Collector, by John Fowles. </i>
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        <i>George knew next to nothing about the book itself, but kept hearing good things about it as an inspired horror novel among the best stories in the 20th century. It had been collecting dust in the old library, so George thought that it might be nice to give it a home in his little dwelling space.</i>
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        <i>The cover detailed a beautiful butterfly with a clipped wing, which made George sad- how something of such beauty had a needle pierced through its abdomen and held like a trophy on the book. It was an illustration, metaphorical–yet it saddened him to think about, nonetheless.</i>
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        <i>It likely had everything to do with the plot, which was elaborated on back of the book. George found an odd familiarity and fascination with the concept, and with art student Miranda. </i>
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        <i>After precious moments of peace, his phone vibrated on the table. He was brought out of his wild cacophony of thoughts and ideas so that he could set down the book in his hands. George replaced the book with his mobile phone, looking through his notification tab.</i>
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        <i>A single text, as evident from his messenger app letting him know.</i>
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        <i>‘Where are you?’ The text asked- an unknown number. George felt his blood chill for a brief moment, before shaking his head to–literally–clear his thoughts. This was likely Sapnap, wishing to spook him for a bit. He’s done this before, typically when he was feeling particularly lonely or isolated from George’s presence.</i>
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        <i>The tips of his fingers brushed against the mobile keyboard, typing out a frustrated message: </i>
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        <i>‘sap, i’m doing work right now will call you later’</i>
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        <i>‘No.’ An immediate response, ‘I miss you.’</i>
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        <i>‘ur so annoying shut up’</i>
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        <i>‘Come here.’</i>
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        <i>A beat passes.</i>
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        <i>‘Come home.’</i>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>LDAMSOGIFHDA SORRY FOR FORGETTING TO UPDATE omg. it's a bit shorter but i will make up for it tomorrow :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Revelations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door clicks open with the turn of a key, and George steps inside to breathe in the amicable air of his small home. He turns around to close the door with an armful of books resting in the crook of his elbow, tossing the keys onto a nearby table with no regards for where it landed.</p><p>It was hard to ignore the persistent vibration of his phone in his pocket, but he held back checking until he removed his jacket–used to protect against the fall air (ever-growing colder and more bitter). George’s footsteps loudly resounded throughout the basement when he took each step down his stairs, arriving at the bottom with his books still cradled in his arms.</p><p>George hummed a short tune- The Engine Driver, by the Decembrists. He set exactly four books down on his work desk in the dark basement, switching on the ceiling light to illuminate the large arcade cabinet sitting in the center. Once the books were out of his hands, he opened his messenger app to see about twelve new texts from the unknown number.</p><p>‘Please,’ was written about seven of those times. ‘Where are you’ accounted for another two. The last three were a tad peculiar, though.</p><p>‘I can’t be alone anymore.’</p><p>‘George, are you coming home?’</p><p>‘I don’t want to do something I regret.’</p><p>He frowned deeply, moving to block the number and setting the phone back down next to his brand new selection of books. Sapnap was either getting desperate, or thought that this would scare him–which it did. Props to Sapnap, he supposed. Extremely off-putting and overall unsettling to see that.</p><p>George’s frown moved to a neutral expression once he walked toward the arcade machine, tapping his finger against the screen.</p><p>The A.I. and George established a system of “waking” it up, as it told him that it feared being shut down. Apparently it sent it into a dormant state where it was unable to think or do things, which it explained to George that it preferred to be ‘alive’. </p><p>The screen blinked to a pale white, trying not to blind George’s already not-so-perfect eyes. He was promptly met with the two-dimensional image of DREAM, face close to the display and staring straight back at him. “WELCOME HOME, GEORGE!”</p><p>George smiled, nodding his head. “Yeah, how have you been since I was out?”</p><p>‘LONELY.’ The robotic tone was disconsolate, “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”</p><p>“I went to the library to check out some new material, that’s all.” George reassured the program, subconsciously tapping his fingers against the side of the metal. During the week, he had finally cleaned it off fully, which DREAM seemed to be thankful for. </p><p>“THAT SOUNDS FUN. I WISH I COULD COME OUTSIDE WITH YOU,” DREAM stepped away from the screen, walking in circles. Just during a week, the two had already established many things. One of which was a minimum of conversation once a day, so that the program didn’t feel too lonely- which George had the time for, of course. “THIS SPACE IS VERY LIMITING. WHAT IF WE FOUND A WAY TO MOVE ME?”</p><p>George thought to himself for a moment, sitting before the machine. “I’m not <i>that<i> experienced with coding, and that kind of thing, I don’t think.. The best I could probably do is transfer your program into my laptop, and even still- that would take a WHILE.” </i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He turned around, picking up his phone and checking for any more messages–specifically if Sapnap had continued pestering him. He pocketed it, shaking his head. “Besides, it’d look pretty weird if I’m taking my laptop out on a date or something,” He joked, giggling. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“SURE.” DREAM nodded its virtual head, waddling towards the screen again and bringing a detailed hand toward it. “CAN I TRY TOUCHING YOUR HAND, AGAIN?” </i>
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  <i>
    <i>The last few times they tried, George continued to be electrocuted; but as time progressed, the power dulled. “I AM LEARNING TO CONTROL THIS MACHINE BETTER, I BELIEVE IT SHOULD NOT HARM YOU.” </i>
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    <i>George sighed, bringing his fingertips to the glass display. He made contact with the cold surface, waiting for DREAM to echo his actions like it tended to do regardless. When DREAM’s finger reached out to touch George’s, all he felt was a tiny spark- a little prick on his index. </i>
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    <i>It was strange, and eye-opening. It caused George to laugh, as he thought of illustrations in media of an ape and human’s fingertips making contact- perhaps this was the future. George was happy if he would be the one leading humanity into a new age with such a strange discovery, and maybe that could be the mark he leaves on the world. </i>
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  <i>
    <i>It was Danse Macabre. Lacrimosa.</i>
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    <i>“THANK YOU FOR STAYING WITH ME, GEORGE.”</i>
  </i>
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  <i>
    <i>“Huh..?”</i>
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    <i>“MY CREATOR ABANDONED ME. YOU WON’T ABANDON ME TOO, RIGHT?”</i>
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    <i>“No, DREAM,” George rested his forehead against the machine, allowing for the program to look deep into his eyes- highlighted only by dark circles and deep bags under his eyes, “I won’t. I promise. I think this’ll be good for me.. Both of us.”</i>
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    <i>A box appeared on screen, asking George a question. ‘WILL YOU STAY MY COMPANION?’ </i>
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    <i>He selected the ‘yes’ option.</i>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A bit late OOPS BUT BUT IM GOING TO DOUBLE UPDATE !!!! heyyyyy 😙</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Stress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After blocking the number, whoever it was seemed to cease all contact. George was glad that that was all it took to scare them off, or at least ward them off for a little while. That meant that he was able to get on with his life and continue his studies, tinker around a little bit with the machine living in his basement.</p><p>Every day, it grew weirder and weirder to refer to it as a living being. He rarely even used its name when conversing with it- let alone hold it to human standards. Though, it seemed like the program fairly enjoyed when he did so. </p><p>George wasn’t going to be the one to tell a sentient computer program ‘no’, maybe he’d get someone else to do it for him. He’d frequently have intrusive thoughts months before this–detailing what may happen if the robot uprising <i>did<i> occur. George made sure to use a warm tone with his Alexa, and apologized to his Siri. </i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He liked the feeling of his fingers when they ran through his hair. It reminded him of someone else, in a way–someone with much darker hair and an even darker personality. It astounded him how he never was able to shake off childish flings, despite being in his twenties and not physically seeing the person for years.</i>
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    <i>He assured himself that he would find someone to fill that void in due time.</i>
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    <i>Something else George liked was being preoccupied. </i>
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    <i>He was quite possibly drawn to DREAM for the same reasons he avoided Sapnap–he needed to distance himself from unwanted feelings with distraction. George thought that he was pretty damn good at it too, as he hasn’t particularly had any troubling thoughts surrounding him for a few days. </i>
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    <i>He should call. </i>
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    <i>They spoke two days ago, and it was already feeling too long for George- he internally scolded himself for how pathetic he was being, before stepping upstairs to look for his phone. His phone had gotten him through restless nights and sleepless hours late into the crack of dawn, and George found himself thanking the creators of Apple on occasion.</i>
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    <i>The door to his room creaked open, blasting him in the face with cool air. His mind was so preoccupied that he even left his window open? The scolding continued enough to draw his mind away from thinking about the window,</i>
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    <i>which was shut and locked.</i>
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    <i>George bit his lip, taking a seat on his bed and reaching toward his nightstand. Without looking, his hand bumps into something warm and he shivers with shock. “H-” He starts, before realizing that what his hand collided with was a lamp that had been switched on for upwards of two hours. </i>
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    <i>Before he could chastise himself, he brought his hand back toward his beating body and looked at the design of the lampshade. George grew sidetracked, thinking about the warmth of his body flowing out of him and into the plush covers decorating his bedsheets. </i>
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    <i>The ringing in his ears were quiet and dull until he laid on the bed and rested himself against his pillows. Then, the ringing grew in dynamics tenfold.</i>
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    <i>He grunted in confusion, shaking his head- a quirk that he frequently went back to whenever he wanted to metaphorically clear his mind. It seemed to work, because the ringing was replaced by cold yet again. </i>
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  <i>
    <i>George decided that he wasn’t going to find his phone in its usual spot, so he might as well check for another place that he could have put it. He remembered a time where his trouble with memory neared to be this bothersome–in which he was almost eaten alive by stressors.</i>
  </i>
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    <i>Once Sapnap left him, his stress seemed to remain stagnant. It wasn’t that he disliked Sapnap by any means–quite the contrary; but being so close to him provided him with an unnecessary pain that he didn’t want to endure. </i>
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    <i>He stood from the bed, nearly tripping over himself and exiting. Dazed, frazzled–as Sapnap would likely put it, jokingly–George swallowed a mix of pride and mucus in his throat. He felt Valse Sentimentale, Pyotr Tchaikovsky.</i>
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    <i>The melancholic feeling followed him from his bedroom into the basement. During the trek, he couldn’t shake off the feelings of eyes staring at him from all directions, circling him. He needed to bring his mind away from it all, the only way that he knew how to anymore. </i>
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    <i>Without asking, George rested his head against the screen of the machine. A silent conversation that the two had often, prompting a soft glow to emit from it and shine on George’s delicate features. </i>
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    <i>It was week three. By this point, the two felt comfortable enough to confide in one another. DREAM’s method of confiding was showing more and more pieces to a century-long puzzle, masking himself–quite literally. It felt a mutual-enough bond with George to appear as a human man, occasionally removing its mask during intense or heated moments.</i>
  </i>
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  <i>
    <i>“GEORGE… HOW ARE YOU FEELING?”</i>
  </i>
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    <i>“Stressed,” was all George could manage.</i>
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  <i>
    <i>“IS IT SAPNAP AGAIN?”</i>
  </i>
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  <i>
    <i>George remained silent, which seemed to be enough of an answer for DREAM. “I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU CONTINUE TO ASSOCIATE WITH A PERSON WHO ONLY BRINGS YOU NEGATIVITY.” This prompted a heavy sigh from George, and a low chuckle. “Right..? It’s- It’s because I love him. Do you know what love is?” </i>
  </i>
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    <i>George brought his head away from the screen, staring down at DREAM. It took a moment to formulate a response. “YES. I LOVED MY CREATOR. THE LOVE WAS DREADFUL,” It reciprocated George’s movement, backing away as well. “BUT LOVE IS SUPPOSED TO BE A GOOD THING.”</i>
  </i>
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    <i>He nodded, “Everyone told me that love was supposed to be.. This hyped-up amazing thing, but I’m kinda hating it so far.” </i>
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    <i>“IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO TO HELP?” DREAM raised its mask, “I WORRY ABOUT YOU. YOU GO AWAY FOR SO LONG, AND ALL YOU SPEAK ABOUT IS HOW HORRIBLE YOU FEEL.” Its soft-looking lips were experts at speaking to George at this point–the program professionally analyzed him. Its freckles dotted its face like one of Michelangelo's paintings in the library, and its eyes.. were green like sap, sticky and sweet and made you sick when you’ve had too much.</i>
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  <i>
    <i>“That’s nice of you, I guess,” His neutral expression held, trying to force a minimal smile. “But I couldn’t ask much of you. You stress me out, too, you know? I want to help you, but I really can’t.” George ran his hands through his hair, which DREAM knew by now was a common indicator of his distress. </i>
  </i>
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  <i>
    <i>“I will help you.” </i>
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    <i>DREAM’s voice didn’t have a strange crackle anymore, or the robotic twinge to it–it was near completely human, with humanities’ inflections and all. Albeit, still harnessing the unusual sound quality due to the speakers of the machine.</i>
  </i>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>here we go omg<br/>it's starting to pick up now, next chapter is very umm </p><p>chaotic.</p><p>i'll just say that george is not having a great time</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Panic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW/CWs: Panic attack, mention of meds</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George’s eyebags only deepened and darkened, much to his dismay. He hated seeing himself in mirrors, even if that mirror was just his powered-off phone.. Or DREAM. </p>
<p>He quickly <i>did<i> find comfort in when the machine was powered on, and the screen was white enough to shield himself from having to see such an exhausted George. “Welcome home George! How was your day?” DREAM asked. George suspired deeply, “It was like usual, I guess. I took notes, I studied, I failed.” </i></i></p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>DREAM shook its head, giving George a very familiar yet deep frown. “That’s not good at all. Do you need assistance with understanding your unit?” It floated further toward the screen in concern, beckoning for George’s hand to connect with the glass display. As if on command, he followed as beckoned. George nearly crumpled before him, leaning his entire head onto the screen as if it were a comforting chest of a friend. </i>
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    <i>“No. That’s not- It’s not that I don’t get it. I <i>do.<i> I just have no motivation anymore, I don’t know if I can do it. College, and a job, and taking care of you-” His words came off as harsh in a way that he had no intentions of, “I look horrible, I can’t function, my meds don’t fucking work!” </i></i></i>
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        <i>George turned around to perform breathing exercises, which evidently did nothing for his panicked state. He looked for something nearby the grasp in his hands to replace the empty feeling, resorting to a journal that remained unwritten in–well, that is, besides a few entries about DREAM and his behaviors he had been examining.</i>
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      <i>
        <i>He didn’t need it. He knew what this thing was (did he?). He was going to find some way to fix its problems, then he wouldn’t have to deal with <i>anything<i> anymore. Another week to hold out, which turns into another month, and another semester.</i></i></i>
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            <i>It was endless, wasn’t it? This all-powerful program behind a screen was mocking him, with its eternal knowledge and inability to understand issues with <i>motivation.<i> George used his brittle fingernails–short as ever, from his constant schedule of chewing them off–to tear into the lined pages of the notebook.</i></i></i>
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                <i>The pages flew to the ground, and George fell alongside them. He collapsed, scrambling to take the torn pages in his hands and rip them <i>more.<i> It felt like a snowstorm, a blizzard–the way the white flecks spun around him made him feel like a child again. </i></i></i>
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                    <i>One's frustrations build up until there is a point in which you can’t hold them back anymore.</i>
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                    <i>In the end, George always defaulted back to destruction. Destroying the relationships around him through ignoring and avoiding, destroying his own sanity through the constant thoughts. Oh, the thoughts. The thoughts were the worst part of it all- they told him the things he didn’t want to hear, especially about Sapnap.</i>
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                    <i>Leave Sapnap. Leave. You have to get out of there, and eventually the voices were no longer his. They were DREAM encouraging them, which scared him the most. George would never be able to differentiate the programs intentions- it’s not like a computer could understand his consistent strife with the man.</i>
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                    <i>George storms into the bathroom to turn the water to the sink on, leaving the handle pulled all the way to the left–cold water flows and drips into the porcelain bowl. He shoves his hands inside, which caused him to flinch upon first contact. He hisses, “Gh-” and shakes his head to clear his thoughts again.</i>
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                    <i>He puts his face to the running water, submerging himself within the running liquid. His ears fill, his mouth fills, his nose fills– and his ears are now filled with the same ringing he heard days ago. This time, it was much more insistent- begging him to rise. </i>
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                    <i>Something shakes him awake and out of his stupor. George gasped in a gulp of water, shooting his head out of the water (that was now flowing onto the tiled floor beneath him). </i>
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                    <i>He swallowed back his initial pain and confusion at the ringing, physically shaking it away from his head again. In some ways, he was thankful for its interruption of his activities- as now, he could breathe clearly again. George nodded to himself, staring in the mirror at his utterly disheveled state. “I have to call. I have to call.” </i>
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                    <i>He repeated this mantra to himself, taking a towel in his hands and drying off his mousy brown hair. </i>
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                    <i>George walked back to the scene he had left for DREAM to see- his cheeks flush an even paler white than previous. DREAM only watched him approach, with patient and calm eyes. George wished he could say that it pissed him off, but he didn’t have the energy to feel upset at someone–some<i>thing<i>–that was only trying to help.</i></i></i>
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                        <i>“You shouldn’t call, George. I.. this is what he does to you, you have to take a break.” DREAM suggested to him, voice laced with something that reminded him of concern. George only kept his eyes behind it, looking at the mess he made. “I have to clean up all of my messes, I can’t imagine how I’m making <i>him<i> feel.” </i></i></i>
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                            <i>DREAM bit its lip in deliberation, “You should be taking time for yourself, too. I’m sure that you wouldn’t be able to help him if you’re in a bad place.” George finally made “eye-contact” with DREAM, looking sullen- “He’s supposed to be here in a week.”</i>
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                              <i>”Here,<i> Here?” George nodded. “Is that why you’ve been so stressed out on top of everything else?” George nodded again, causing DREAM to offer him a sympathetic look. </i></i>
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                                <i>“I have to prepare everything here for him, including me. So I’m gonna call him to make sure everything’s okay, yeah?” </i>
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                                <i>“Alright. I will assist you in any way I can, George. Even if that is remaining docile for a few days so you may focus.. Everything will work itself out in due time.”</i>
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                                <i>George departed, sending himself off with a wave and a light smile to DREAM. </i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
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                              <i>
                                <i>DREAM didn’t power down.</i>
                              </i>
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                        </i>
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                    </i>
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                              <i>
                                <i>Instead, its screen flashed a deep red- it proceeded to look into its databases and upwards toward the ceiling. “This is a first, but I’m sure there should be no bumps in the road.” It gulped, before jumping and launching itself upwards.</i>
                              </i>
                            </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
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                              <i>
                                <i>The display disappeared.</i>
                              </i>
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                              <i>
                                <i>---</i>
                              </i>
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                          </i>
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                                <i>George was so ecstatic to find out the classes had been cancelled due to a school-wide power outage- rumors were quickly spread about the thought of a student hacking into the systems to cause a shutdown of all systems, as it was clear that it wasn’t an actual–natural–outage, but he didn’t have the time to care.</i>
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                              <i>
                                <i>This left him more time to prepare for Sapnap’s arrival, as well as speak to DREAM on a more frequent basis. He was finally able to get that break that DREAM suggested- and man, did it feel refreshing.</i>
                              </i>
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                                <i>Without school as a distraction, and taking a few days off of work, George was able to focus on himself. Both he and DREAM found him much physically and mentally healthier, such a relief. </i>
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                                <i>However, Sapnap’s arrival was impending- and it was impending fast. Other things that George noticed was the occasional misplaced item, as well as forgetting about clothes or blankets that he had folded and set on the couch. Regardless of how strange it was, it really made the house feel like a home. </i>
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                                <i>George made hefty progress on DREAM’s systems, ie: working toward being able to transfer his programs elsewhere. Randomly, there was a huge jump in ease in his work- many of the previous roadblocks had disappeared, which George chalked up to the artificial intelligence’s development over the course of a few days.</i>
                              </i>
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                                <i>But a knocking on the front door took him out of his thoughts, and caused him to rush into his bathroom. George took a comb and parted his hair in a way that–he hoped–made him look slightly more appealing, and less sunken. He freshened himself up so that he could answer the incessant knocking on the door. </i>
                              </i>
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                                <i>George took out his phone to check his outdoor cameras to ensure that it was someone he knew, leading him to watch Sapnap bouncing on his heels outside with a large grin. Sapnap’s smiles had always been extremely contagious, leading George to unlock and swing the door open with a beaming expression.</i>
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                                <i>The two men embraced, allowing for the slightly older man–Sapnap–to take in the mood of the house George worked so hard to create. Various candles allowed for a pleasant lilac smell to waft through the air, calming both of their nerves. </i>
                              </i>
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                              <i>
                                <i>“How was the trip here? I thought you said you were coming in tomorrow!” </i>
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                              <i>
                                <i>“I wanted to surprise you!” Sapnap giggled, nodding his head with excitement and vigour. George took him by the hand and led him into the living room. “I’m gonna give you a tour and <i>everything!”<i></i></i></i>
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                                    <i>The two men began with a tour of the house, rather than a tour of Brighton. </i>
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                                    <i>George was insanely worried that physical contact with Sapnap again would only cause him more stress than ever before, as well as an increase in his longing.. But it didn’t. It felt wonderful and amazing to be able to hold his hands, and lean against his larger build. </i>
                                  </i>
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                                    <i>After taking him to see a few of his standard rooms--like the kitchen and sorts--he took Sapnap into his room. They both sat on his bed, George switching on the television. “Do you wanna watch anything?” </i>
                                  </i>
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                                    <i>Sapnap simply gazed off into the distance, with his eyes looking slightly blank. After George tapped his shoulder, however, he snapped back to reality. He smiled, rubbing his ears. “Sorry, my head started hurting a bit- some ringing. I’d love to watch some random movie, or whatever. Just hanging out is great.”</i>
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                                    <i>The moments where he was able to just bask in the company of Sapnap were always George’s favorite, getting to lay against him without any repercussions--because that’s what friends did! It didn’t mean either of them were gay, or anything of the sort. Right.</i>
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                                    <i>George switched on some old vintage movie that seemed to be exclusive to the UK, captivating Sapnap for a bit. The thing ran off for a while, and both of them eventually lost interest in favor of conversation.</i>
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                                  <i>
                                    <i>“I’m glad things aren’t like.. Different.” George said.</i>
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                                  <i>
                                    <i>Sapnap raised an eyebrow in a hint of confusion, “Why would they be?”</i>
                                  </i>
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                                  <i>
                                    <i>“..I’m not sure, actually. I just was worried you’d think my house was messy,” He laughed.</i>
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                                  <i>
                                    <i>“Of course not!” Sapnap pulled George closer to his chest, from his position between Sapnap’s legs, “You’re always gonna be my favorite Gogy- even if you’re a slob. If I made fun of you for that, I’d be the world’s <i>biggest<i> fucking hypocrite.”</i></i></i>
                                  </i>
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                                      <i>
                                        <i>George flushed a cherry red, nodding furiously. “R-Right! Yeah!” His hand subconsciously drifted downwards towards Sapnaps’s forearm, before Sapnap took George’s smaller hands in his. He led the way for George, intertwining their hands together with a goofy grin.</i>
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                                        <i>He loved how dopey and loveable Sapnap was- how he could easily tell when George was going for something, and unabashedly takes charge. After a few more minutes of conversation, they began to doze off in each other’s arms. </i>
                                      </i>
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                                      <i>
                                        <i>“George,” Sapnap breathed out softly. </i>
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                                        <i>George let Sapnap’s steady rise and fall of his chest lull him deeper into a peaceful rest, “Yes?”</i>
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                                      <i>
                                        <i>“You’re really pretty when you’re tired.”</i>
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                                        <i>Sapnap had always playfully flirted with all of their friends–and even their enemies. It was one of the few things that frustrated George about him, the enigmatic mind hidden behind simplicity that was Sap. </i>
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                                        <i>Sapnap loved to play with his feelings by shooting a few quips here and there, all to get a rise out of the easily-flustered Brit. </i>
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                                        <i>“You don’t mean that.”</i>
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                                        <i>“I do,” Sapnap leaned in closer to George. “You’re gorgeous.”</i>
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                                        <i>“Wh- What are you doing?” George stammered out, finding his throat was quite dry after swallowing in nervousness. He thought he was finally over Sapnap, he thought that he could just be friends for now.</i>
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                                        <i>George was always frustrated at Sapnap for leading him on and feeding into his naive desires. </i>
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                                        <i>“Come on,” Sapnap stood up from the bed, causing George to look outside and realize that it had become nighttime from their “short”-seeming nap. He grabbed George’s hands in excitement, nearly causing him to plummet to the ground from force.</i>
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                                        <i>Sapnap resolved to lifting George’s thin and exhausted body into the air, cradling him in his arms. He began to walk out of the room, taking George somewhere else. George may have been extremely confused, but he couldn’t lie–the mystery was hot.</i>
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                                        <i>His body was hit with a sudden chill, causing him to curl in on himself and rub his arms for an ounce of warmth. “Sap, can we just go back to my room and-”</i>
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  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Scientist and His Assistant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's where it gets scary :[</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George was interrupted by Sapnap placing him down on the cold basement floor, staring down at him. “Are you alright with me kissing you?” </p><p>He nearly felt his heart stop, clutching his shirt in his hands. </p><p>Suddenly the basement wasn’t so cold anymore.</p><p>“..yeah. Yeah! I’d- I’d love to- I-” George stumbled over his words, all coherent thoughts thrown out the window. Sapnap’s hand connected with George’s face, cupping his soft cheeks in his large hands.</p><p>“Oh George, I can’t give him the opportunity to be that intimate with you. That’s reserved for me, okay?”</p><p>The room grew cold with confusion yet again, as Sapnap crumpled to the floor. </p><p>“Sap!” George crawled over to him, making sure that he hadn’t hit his head too hard on the cement–that could easily be deadly. He pushed aside his disbelief at his strange words to ensure his safety. </p><p>He moved his face over, checking his pulse. Surely, he was alive and breathing well- but a few snaps of his fingers next to Sapnap’s ears proved to George that he was out cold. </p><p>Alarmed hands curled around the shoulders of the man beneath him, desperately trying to shake his companion awake. He reached into his pocket for his phone so that he could dial emergency services–</p><p>but it was nowhere to be found.</p><p>At the very least, neither in his pocket nor in his nearby vicinity; but George was too shocked to feel comfortable leaving Sapnap alone in the dark. </p><p>A deep voice sounded from the depths of the basement, as a faint light emerged from the shadows. “Come,” It beckoned to him–and he followed. His weakened legs carried him as far as he needed to go to find himself face to face with the display screen. “H-Have- you- my phooonee..” </p><p>George very much struggled to force words out of his mouth in his wary and panicked state, trying to make sense of anything he was seeing around him. He nearly slipped on a piece of paper on the floor on his way to the machine, reminding him that this reaction was all too familiar.</p><p>“He’s not- he’s- Dream help me, I can’t breathe!” </p><p>“This is for the better, you’ll realize it soon.” DREAM stared at him from inside the arcade machine, though its arms were slowly seeping out of the cage of a screen. “Did you really think he loved you?”</p><p>“I don’t understand-”</p><p>“I don’t expect you to. It took me a while to understand, as well.” </p><p>DREAM’s figure took its time to pry itself away from the confines of its prison, forcing itself out of the machine. It looked almost real, yet translucent- highly diaphanous. George thought that he could put his hand through it, but at the same time it could constrict his breathing by taking a hold of his neck.</p><p>“I can show you, that’ll likely be much easier.” With this, DREAM took closer steps toward George until it was standing menacingly above him. It stared down with an expressionless look, and continued to walk forward.</p><p>As a result, George tried to scurry away.</p><p>This proved futile, as the apparition walked <i>into<i> him, causing his mind to go blank.</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>---</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
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    <i>What a brilliant man, mister Soot was. </i>
  </i>
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    <i>Constantly and consistently on the verge of breakthrough in his technologies and innovations, and now being able to create his first sentient computer virus.</i>
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    <i>There are ways to create an artificial sentience in programs- something that was simply subservient and followed any type of command given to it. However, something that Mr. Soot had been aching to achieve for years, was the creation of a truly sentient program.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
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    <i>Something that could analyze a person’s weaknesses and capitalize on them. Something that could travel in-between platforms and cause massive deals of damage. Something entirely designed to be malevolent, as a form of revenge against all those who’d wronged him.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
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    <i>Clay had no idea what he had gotten himself into when applying to be this man’s assistant.</i>
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    <i>The outside world and the media knew the man as a pioneer in the coding and computer industry, creating items to bring convenience into everyday life–some even went as far as to call him a revolutionary, who would bring the new age of electronics.</i>
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</p><p>
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    <i>How, exactly, was one to create sentience?</i>
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    <i>Mr. Soot knew that, at least, <i>he<i> didn’t possess the tools to create life. So, he would have to.. <i>borrow<i> life from the almighty creator, god itself. </i></i></i></i></i>
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            <i>Soon, Soot became obsessed with the concept of merging humans and technology together, holding out applications for a lab assistant to help him with his newest project. This wasn’t <i>entirely<i> a lie, his new assistant–Clay–would indeed be helping him a great deal.</i></i></i>
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                <i>Soot had created videos and went through lengthy speeches to describe his thoughts to Clay, and how exactly he was going to code and create this artificial intelligence system. The DYNAMIC REAL-TIME ELEUTHERIAN ALGORITHM MATRIX, as he referred to it, would analyze data from a subject in real-time and work towards interacting with humans.</i>
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                <i>“So you’re.. Trying to replicate <i>life?”<i> Clay wondered aloud.</i></i></i>
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                    <i>“Precisely!” Soot explained, “I have completed the first half already! This program serves its purpose just swell as a typical artificial intelligence.</i>
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                    <i>But we need the last part, assistant.”</i>
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                    <i>Clay nodded, turning around in order to prepare to fetch items for his superior. “Sure! What else are you thinking we need to add to it?”</i>
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                    <i>“Go ahead and fetch me my afternoon tea, will you?” Soot requested of Clay. </i>
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                    <i>While he was turned around, Soot brought a hefty wrench above his head and slammed down into his skull. Clay cried out, quickly losing consciousness due to heavy blood loss. One would think that would be the end of it..</i>
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                    <i>But mister Soot still had one last component to add to his machine.</i>
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                    <i>He dragged his assistants body into the depths of a musty basement, somewhere that was deep underground and hidden from the gaze of the world. There had already been a circle prepared for them, surrounded by black candles and decorated with deep red symbols painted on the ground.</i>
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                    <i>Soot laid the body in the middle, moving it so that it was splayed in a star position. He quickly checked the pulse to ensure that his subject was still, at least, faintly living. </i>
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                    <i>He spoke ancient words he had studied from books passed down by generations, letting something unworldly and unearthly flow through the trembling and barely-alive body of his assistant. </i>
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                    <i>Clay’s body rose into the air, as mister Soot could lay his eyes on the peculiar scene unfolding before him. A translucent figure rose from the fillets of Clay’s body, clawing its way out of him in a desperate escape. </i>
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                    <i>When Clay’s lifeless body fell back to the floor, this translucent being attempted to propel itself upwards and through the ceiling–but mister Soot could not allow this to happen. Despite his shocked stupor, Soot continued to quietly speak words out into the air.</i>
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                    <i>The figure silently screamed, being pulled back down toward the depths of the Earth. </i>
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                    <i>This time, it followed Soot as he waltzed toward a dingy old arcade machine in excitement. “Praemoveo, puer! Praemoveo!” He commanded, as its body was yanked toward the machine.</i>
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                    <i>“Vos oportet ire!” </i>
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                    <i>With this, Clay’s spirit was confined to the machine, despite his constant pleas and scratches against the glass prison. </i>
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                    <i>George’s head filled with murky water, causing his brain to feel like it was trying to claw out from his skull–inflicting horrible pain upon him.</i>
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                  <i>
                    <i>---</i>
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                    <i>“You’re.. Are you Clay?” He asked the apparition that stood before him, as it stepped out of his body.</i>
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                    <i>“Confined to that horrible place.. Until you freed me. I thought that the vast anger that I felt toward my creator would have broken my shackles, but you fostered something much more powerful within me.” DREAM–<i>Clay<i> spoke in a ghostly, yet surprisingly upbeat tone of voice.</i></i></i>
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                        <i>“I never had much connection or trust for my creator- but George, I can’t help being so deeply in love with you. There was a difference, I felt, in the anger that tore me apart; when someone I love was being manipulated.”</i>
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                        <i>Upon a confused look from George, Clay took the time to explain more in-depth. “I love you, George. So much. Your beauty outmatches anyone I’ve ever seen before.. I can’t continue to watch you struggle like you do over some.. <i>insolent<i> fool like him. I needed to make you mine. You are going to <i>be<i> mine.”</i></i></i></i></i>
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                                <i>George spoke up, trying to stand. “What have you done to him?”</i>
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                              <i>
                                <i>“We don’t exactly need him. Despite my intense hatred- I could never damn another soul to the hell that I’ve faced. It still hurt to see you so readily follow me down here when I wore his face, but you could not hear me otherwise.” </i>
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                                <i>Clay kneeled down to hold himself at eye level to George. “If it makes you feel better, he won’t remember a majority of this trip.” On the contrary, this only seemed to cause George’s eyes to fill with salty liquid. “I can’t have him messing with us, so he’ll have to be taken out of the equation in some way or another. Really, I apologize- my frustrations had to get the better of me,” Clay chuckled, taking the situation just a bit too lightly compared to George.</i>
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                                <i>“No, you- can’t-” George began to hyperventilate, causing Clay to hush him. “I’m not going to hurt him any more than I have- I don’t have to. When the police find him next to a corpse, I doubt they’ll believe it was the work of some kind of phantom.”</i>
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                                <i>“What?” George stammered, “Please don’t hurt me- please- I don’t want to die-”</i>
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                                <i>Clay held George’s body close to his, which was cold and damp. “Think about it, darling. No more worries in the world, no more having to worry about earthly things like food or drink–only one another. I could feel your bond from behind my prison, too.</i>
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                                <i>The way your chest moved up and down when you slept was mesmerizing; I knew you were dreaming of me, when I laid beneath you while you slept, too! Sapnap could <i>never<i> care about you or understand you like I do, or provide you with the care you need. All he’s ever done is harm you, and lead you on.”</i></i></i>
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                                    <i>As Clay spoke, his tone grew more and more heated from discussing Sapnap. As a result, various objects around him began to levitate in the air and shake in his grasp. </i>
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                                    <i>“We can embrace in the afterlife for all eternity, it’ll be magical!” Clay gushed, approaching him. “I will make it swift and painless.”</i>
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                                    <i>“You will never have to think again, only joy and pleasure will fill your life.” </i>
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                                    <i>A floating hammer slowly approaches.</i>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>did i forget to update for a week? perhaps</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Beginning of The End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>let's fuckin pile drive through this shall we?</p><p>possible tws/cws: mentions of overdose (super minimal), mentions of drugs, violence, degradation. it's only in the flashback portion, so when it starts talking about George in school, skip ahead to the next portion marked with the ---</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Fuck you!” </p><p>George’s head spins around to see a Sapnap with blood trickling down his forehead standing up valiantly. “You’re gonna take George over my dead body, bitch!”</p><p>“..I don’t mind killing you, too. I wanted to ensure George’s happiness, but if worse comes to worst,” Clay’s attention redirected towards the now-conscious man. He quickly advanced toward him, causing him to yell and duck out of the way.</p><p>The way that Sapnap took a dive and rolled into the hard floor with relative ease reminded George of their older days together; especially how it felt to have someone of his size and strength there to protect him during physical education. They had made a great team- George quick and nimble, a speedy distraction to other students while Sapnap hurled dodgeballs into their forms. </p><p>They also worked well in school fights, which Sapnap happened to get himself into quite often. Though, George was much too focused on the past- Sapnap <i>wasn’t<i> his past self. He had to focus on the-</i></i></p><p>
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    <i>Sapnap’s powerful and muscular hands wrapped around George’s wrist, yanking him like a ragdoll in extreme haste. “Let’s go!” </i>
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    <i>George took a bit of a tumble at first, but soon, the adrenaline from Sapnap’s veins transferred into his. He tried his best to keep up with Sapnap, while he dragged him toward the staircase and practically threw his frail body up them. </i>
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    <i>When he dared to look behind him, the sight was frightening and heart pounding- an infuriated spirit rapidly gaining on them, attempting to throw George’s tools at them. Of course, he aimed straight for Sapnap’s skull; it was evident that it wasn’t being as violent as it <i>could<i> have been due to George’s body blocking Sapnap.</i></i></i>
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        <i>Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Sapnap slammed the door behind them before realizing that it would likely not slow Clay down at all. He abandoned his thoughts in the time of panic, trying to push George forward with encouraging words.</i>
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        <i>“I’m so sorry! I’m-” George breathed, before being interrupted by Sapnap looking around desperately for an exit, “We’ll do apologies later, Gogs! I don’t give a shit about your psycho ghost computer boyfriend right now, we have to get <i>out!”<i></i></i></i>
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            <i>“He’s not-” George followed close behind Sapnap after abandoning the thought, trying to point out where the front door where Sapnap originally came from hours ago. </i>
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            <i>George huffed in exasperation and exhaustion from running, “Okay, so the exit is just down the ha-”</i>
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            <i>He was cut off by an enraged scream from behind them, being met with Clay’s form glitching in and out of reality. “Why him?! What has he ever done for you?!” Clay flew forward at inhuman speeds, as George responded. “I could ask the same of you! You’re literally trying to kill me!” </i>
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            <i>Sapnap grabbed at the shorter man’s shirt, “Don’t waste your breath!” </i>
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            <i>“Who are you to talk to him that way, you impertinent <i>pig!”<i> Clay screams, picking up in speed. </i></i></i>
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                <i>George and Sapnap arrive at the front door, as Sapnap throws a middle finger in Clay’s direction. He reaches toward the knob, feeling the excitement of freedom fill his body and mind; George brings the key towards the hole it was specially designed for.</i>
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                <i>When he twists the handle, it doesn’t budge. </i>
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                <i>“You’re not going anywhere. At least, not with my George.” </i>
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                <i>The ice takes no hesitation to seep into George’s skin and bones, feeling as if the very blood filling his arteries dropped in heat. Damn him for being so futuristic with his security systems, there had to be an alternative method of getting the door open.</i>
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                <i>“Why isn’t it- George, why the fuck isn’t it opening!” Sapnap demanded to know. “My security systems are all automated and he must have some sort of domain over the electronics in the house and there’s a-” George caught himself for rambling, after watching an old photo frame connected with Sapnap’s torso. </i>
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                <i>He cursed loudly, watching the old image of George and Sapnap shatter into hundreds of pieces on the floor. </i>
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                <i>“We need my phone to send out an emergency alert–scatter, it’ll be harder for him to stop both of us from escaping at once!” George suggested, watching the message process through Sapnap’s brain in a few moments; they both took running in opposite directions.</i>
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                <i>Down the hall Sapnap went, he could’ve likely checked his bathroom, garage, and study- so George resolved to search through his bedroom first. Clay disappeared into the floor, meaning that George had no way of telling who he would search for first.</i>
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                <i>He quietly closed the bedroom door behind him, trying his hardest to make it seem as if no one had entered in the first place. Upon pulling open the drawers of his burnt sienna night table, he was only met with a sad display of failed tests and <i>far<i> less than perfect assignments he had ‘completed’ just before the due date.</i></i></i>
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                    <i>From his place kneeling on the floor, his sensitive ears could pick up the sound of faint footsteps approaching his room. In alarm, George shoved his malnourished body underneath his bed and felt immense shivering.</i>
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                    <i>This was the place Clay said he had been, listening to George’s soft breaths in his sleep.</i>
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                    <i>As his mind occupied itself with intrusive thoughts of the worst, the footsteps turned the other direction and faded away as quickly as they had entered his eardrums. George quietly sighed into his palm, crawling out from beneath his mattress and continued to search through his closet. Perhaps he accidentally left it in his back pocket, meaning that it could be in his hamper–which he also resorted to checking.</i>
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                    <i>The massive piles of dirty clothes around his room only reminded him of how much of a wreck Clay had let him turn into.. But in the end, the only person George had to blame was himself. He couldn’t continue rushing to blame all of his stress on Sapnap and Clay, when he was consistently the reason for his own downfall.</i>
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                    <i>“George! Help me!” </i>
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                    <i>He heard the hysteric cries of Sapnap from down the hall, faint and clearly some ways away from his bedroom.</i>
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                    <i>He gulped, building up the courage to run out of his room and follow the distressed screaming of the man. “No- George! Please!” George picked up his pace, attempting to locate Sapnap–as his voice sounded like it was coming from all directions.</i>
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                    <i>The way he echoed through his mind was very reminiscent of every moment leading up to this–George’s mind was filled to the brim with so many thoughts running at a mile a minute. He sprinted toward the direction he originally came from, the front door. </i>
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                    <i>“A little further, please! You have to come here!” Sapnap called out from what felt so close now, and George slowed down his pace as to ensure he didn’t run into the wall. He continued towards the direction, that seemed to be down the hallway now,</i>
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                    <i>Until he saw pieces of bloodied and broken glass on the ground in front of him, leading into a door to the right. It made him shiver, and he subconsciously slowed down to avoid stepping on it and slipping. </i>
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                    <i>“You’re taking too- long- Geooooorge-” The voice seemed to be pleading with him now, with a slight change in tone at the end of his plea. It even broke a tad bit, as George began to think about how.. <i>off<i> he sounded. </i></i></i>
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                        <i>When Sapnap was hurt, he toughed it out or actively pursued help- he was never really one to sit around and beg someone to come to him, no matter how badly he was hurt. George even remembers the time Sapnap fell out of their large (and shared) oak tree down the road, breaking his leg and refusing to scream. Later, he told George that he hadn’t wanted him to worry.</i>
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                        <i>George slowed his pace again, this time to examine the voice with stricter scrutiny. “G̶͚̦̑͝Ȩ̸̜̊̑Ö̸̯̋R̷̘͊G̶̬͗̐E̷̢͇̅. Come here, <i>now.<i> I won’t ask again!” He bent over to pick up a shard of glass to defend himself, quietly tip-toeing toward the room at the end of the hall.</i></i></i>
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                            <i>The entire room was dark, the lights were likely purposefully left off for cover. When he entered, a Sapnap with a bloodied shirt sleeve turned to him with a crazed grin on his face. “George! Thank goodness! Come here, it’s my arm, he-” </i>
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                            <i>George wasn’t an idiot, not by any means. </i>
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                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>Taking Sapnap by surprise as he held his arms open for a hug, George launched a sucker punch into his left cheek. He howled in pain, screwing his eyes shut and dropping a wrench he had concealed in his right hand.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“Sap doesn’t get impatient with me, despite how much he probably should,” George spat with annoyance, watching something emerge from Sapnap’s chest. It turned around to grab at its wrench, giving George ample time to lug Sapnap out of the room. </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>He desperately grasped at his shoulders, putting all of his force into shaking his body back to life. “Wake up, damnit! I need you!” </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>Sapnap weakly opened his eyes, “Five more minutes..” </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>George hadn’t realized he had been crying onto Sapnap’s sickly body, as they both limped into the nearest room they could find. “I’m so sorry,” George collapsed onto Sapnap’s warm chest and wept. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, there’s so many should haves I should say-” </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“I don’t accept your apology.”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“What?”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>---</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>George carefully stepped down the empty hallways of the desolate school, holding a deep frown. He regretted not turning in his assignment just a bit sooner, as he wouldn’t have to be taking such a lonely walk of shame towards the buses–he just prayed that the buses were still there.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>Something he wasn’t expecting, however, was that a small group of kids had stayed waiting for him by the exit of the school. He expected them to give up and just go home after he had not exited after a good fifteen minutes, but people like them were always persistent.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>When George saw them, he tried to keep his head low and push his way past them. They had other plans.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“George, whatcha ignoring us for? That’s not nice to do to your friends, you know!” One of the taller ones–a year twelve, be believed–slammed his hand on George’s backpack, stopping him in his tracks and almost causing him to topple over.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“Y-You’re not my friend,” He tried to say, but his voice broke apart into pieces by the time he finished. The boy–who he made no effort to remember his name–pushed him into the gritty cement beneath him. </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“I told you that if you came to school today, you would have two hundred dollars. And where is it?” A different person piped up, this time a girl who looked down at him. “I told you to swipe it from your mom, or something.”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>Wiping his arms from the horrid sweat they began to accumulate, “T-Times aren’t th-that great at home, w-we had to use the- all o-of the m-money’s going to m-my dad, he n-needs to-” </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>The girl stomped on his trembling fingers, making George cry out in agony. </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“I. Don’t. Care. You dad could need live-saving surgery for all I fucking care, I need my coke.”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“Hey!” A new voice yells from around the corner, jogging to the scene. “What’s happening?” </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“..this bitch owes me money, Sapnap. Wanna join? We’re gonna go hang at the McColls when we’re done.” The girl took her foot off of the terrified boy’s hands, letting him cradle them in his arms. She turned to the newcomer, giving him a genuine offer she saw nothing wrong with.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“What the hell, man?” Sapnap asked, “This kid’s with me, he’s just a year 9.” </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>She sighed, looking disappointed. “You’re such a downer, jesus chriiiiist. I just need to weasel out my money from him and we’ll be done here-” </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“No.” Sapnap put his foot down. “I’m taking him with me, end of story.” He looked down to George’s eyes, widened and wet with tears. The sight caused a sinking feeling in his chest, as he offered his hand and helped George to his feet. “Here.”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>Sapnap shoved a wad of cash into her hands, rolling his eyes with disgust. “Don’t blame me when you’re dying in a ditch of overdose, bitch.” </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>The ride in Sapnap’s car was.. Strange. He played smooth jazz over his radio, trying to calm George down a bit. “My house is-” “We’re takin’ a detour, okay?” George reveled in the fact that Sapnap’s voice was so soft and soothing, patient and kind. </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>Sapnap soon parked in a dirt pathway, taking George’s hand in his again and bringing him deep into the forest. The two had really only interacted when talking about coding or when George tutored him in math, so it was naturally very weird to George when they interacted outside of either of those circumstances.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>They took a seat at a large oak tree that made George cry every time he thought of it now. </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“Lie against me, okay?” </i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>George did as asked, bringing his shaky fingers to rest against Sapnap’s chest. It was a beautiful somber moment, as the sun set above them. It would be a moment that defined the rest of their lives- the kind of deep bond that neither of them had to think about or explain to one another. They knew.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>He knew this moment had been coming for a while, by the way that Sapnap started walking with him more and more in the hallways. From the way he hovered around him like a protective guard dog, to the way he carried his belongings to his classes for him after a session of tutoring.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“Can you make a promise to me?”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“Anything,” George mumbled. “Thank you for helping me. Thank you, I-”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“Don’t let other people walk on you. I can’t always be there, and it terrifies me to think about that.”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“Sap, I can’t exactly control that. They were older than me, and stronger, and.. Yeah.”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“Then you can’t just take it. Yell, and scream, and-” Sapnap sighed.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“Please just don’t give in. Don’t hurt yourself, don’t give up. I love you.”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>---</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“I said I don’t accept your apology, George. ‘Cause you broke your promise to me.”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>“What promise? Sap, please, I-”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>Sapnap waited for him to trail off to ensure he didn’t interrupt his thoughts. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt yourself. You wouldn’t give up. When I came here, I saw the deep eyebags and how deathly your face looked.” He brought his hand to George’s face, staring into his eyes. “I saw through his eyes, George.”</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
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                            <i>“He consumed you, George- your face is so ghostly, and your fire is so faint and soft. I’m not blaming you.. But I saw you give up. You were too tired to fight back, so you let him worm his way into your head- the spiral-” Sapnap’s face morphed into a deep frown. “I can’t stand seeing you like this, I love you too much.”</i>
                          </i>
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                    </i>
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                          <i>
                            <i>“I.. I have to fix this. I have to take him down.”</i>
                          </i>
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                            <i>“No,” Sapnap began, “We will fix this. I know you so well, Gogs,” Sapnap sadly snickered. “It’s time to stop putting all that pressure on yourself to fix everything alone. You don’t have to be alone anymore, and you sure as hell don’t need some crazy ghost program to fill that void for you. I’m here now, and that’s what counts.”</i>
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                            <i>Sapnap sat up, coughing into his elbow. “Agh.. where should we start?” George clung onto him, letting fat tears drip down his face with an overwhelming melancholic joy. “God, I love you. And- we have to destroy it. The machine, I mean. That’s where he’s trapped, and what’s linking him to.. Like, here. I’m fairly certain that destroying the machine will get rid of him for good.”</i>
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                          <i>
                            <i>“Then that’s what we’ll do. You got a baseball bat? It’s my weapon-of-choice.”</i>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>LOL THE SUDDEN INFLUX OF COMMENTS????</p><p>ayo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi marc</p><p>and hi ven if ur reading</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After a few more moments of rest from the sheer amount of running and damage that they had experienced, Sapnap and George recollected themselves and quietly trekked down the hallways. It had been eerily silent during their trip, piquing their interest and suspicions.</p><p>On their way back to the basement where their entire ordeal started, they took a pitstop at George’s garage. George picked up an old wooden baseball bat that was gifted to him by his father all those years ago–if he had to put a date on it, likely year 9. Its logo had been weathered off due to many, <i>many<i> years of usage. </i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>It was sturdy, though. It would work great against Clay. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The two clung to each other for dear life while their feet made contact with the creaky steps of the stairs. The old wood threatened to break underneath their weight, but held steadfast for their last journey down here for a good long time. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>George’s head darted around, finding the coast was at least clear for a moment. A moment was all he needed to have his screwdriver on deck. “Sap, I can distract him if he comes here. All you have to do is get the panels open to expose the wiring, okay?” He explained to him, handing him the screwdriver and placing his open hand on top of Sapnap’s. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Sapnap nodded with determination, gripping the tool and taking slow steps toward the light switch. It was an older house with lightbulbs that George had barely even a sliver of motivation to change, so the light flickered and remained mostly dim–save, of course, for an ounce of light.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>When he kneeled down to shove the screwdriver toward the various screws on the cold metal of the arcade machine, Sapnap felt a short ringing in his ears and a breeze. He quickly alerted George, “I think he’s here.” To this, George looked around himself and spoke to the air. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Come out, you coward! We’re ending this here.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“So we are,” came a voice from right behind George, making him yelp. Sapnap turned around in concern, but George silently motioned for him to continue his work. “I love a little chase and all- I mean, I haven’t gotten to feel <i>alive<i> for a while,” Clay drawled. </i></i></i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“But it’s gotten a bit tedious, don’t you think?” </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>Possessive hands wrapped around his face and neck, cold and barely-there hands caressing his warm skin. “Yes,” George agreed, “It has. Which is why we have to set you free.”</i>
      </i>
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      <i>
        <i>“I am free!” Clay spun around, beginning to circle George like a predator with its prey. “You set my heart free, and now we’ll get to stay together forever. You act so afraid of it but.. I’ve <i>died!<i> I know what it’s like! I only hated it so much because I was so lonely; you’ll never have to be lonely, though. Not with me around.” </i></i></i>
      </i>
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            <i>Clay smiled warmly and genuinely at him, which soon turned into a grimace when Sapnap opened his mouth. “George.. It’s your phone. Your phone is here. We can call emergency services!” </i>
          </i>
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  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
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            <i>George’s eyes redirected to Sapnap, deliberating on the option.</i>
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            <i>How fast would they even arrive?</i>
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            <i>“No,” George stared Clay in the face, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I- <i>we<i> have to end this. We have to let his soul move on.”</i></i></i>
          </i>
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          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>“But-”</i>
              </i>
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              <i>
                <i>“That’s what <i>I<i> want to do. Please respect my wishes, I’m respecting our promise.”</i></i></i>
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                    <i>George’s body lifted into the air, making him let out an involuntary gasp. Clay suspended his body in the air beside him, “I can take care of you, and ensure that our life is <i>perfect<i> together. No stress, no worries, only happiness! Wouldn’t it be great to be protected and finally feel respected for all eternity?”</i></i></i>
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                        <i>Clay helped him visualize a picture-perfect paradise, “A world of your dreams.. You’d never even have to <i>think<i> about being lonely again.”</i></i></i>
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                            <i>“What do you say?” Clay asked, lowering George back down to the ground, “I only want what is best for you.” </i>
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                            <i>George bit his lip, and furrowed his brows in consideration. “Clay..”</i>
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                            <i>“This is what’s best for me.”</i>
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                            <i>He swiveled his body around in a full 180, swinging the baseball bat in his grasp with all of his might into the screen of the arcade machine. The pieces of the display shattered beyond repair, spraying glass into George, Sapnap, and decorating the floor. Upon this initial hit–that George didn’t even know he had in him–Clay screamed in pain, “AGH! GEORGE, NO!” </i>
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                            <i>Taking the time he gained from stunning him, George knelt next to Sapnap and began ripping the wires out of the metal space they lived in. If destroying the outside of the machine didn’t work, George would simply have to ensure that this machine could never function again.</i>
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                            <i>“G̸̪Ȩ̵̂O̴̭͗R̷͕̎G̴̲͊E̶͑ͅ ̴̭͌G̷̨̊E̷͙Ȍ̷̜R̵͈̃G̵̝̕E̴̻̊ ̴͕̐G̶̥̊Ĕ̶̹Ȯ̵̳R̸̯͝G̵̎͜Ẻ̶̪ ̷̢̈G̶̘̓E̵͖͠O̸̝̾R̶̻͝G̸̛̤E̶̥͠  ̸̖̊G̵͚̾Ḙ̷̔O̵̬͝R̵͚̄G̵̞͂E̵̖͌ ̵̥̐G̷͙͐E̵̬̊Ö̵̤R̴̘͛G̶̫̓Ē̸̳”</i>
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                            <i>Clay’s spirit dissipated, with the last thing that George saw from him was a horrified expression.</i>
                          </i>
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                            <i>After George felt satisfied with the destruction he caused, he collapsed on the floor. Sapnap must have eventually contacted emergency services, as something kicked down the door to the basement and rushed downstairs to the two men.</i>
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                            <i>They looked utterly disheveled and mangled as the paramedics lifted their bodies away, and onto a moving vehicle–the swirling colors around George seemed to merge together, he could barely get a grasp of what was happening to his body and mind. </i>
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                            <i>George laid against Sapnap’s body, soothed by the soft rise and fall of his chest. </i>
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                            <i>“I love you,” they shared with one another, falling asleep in a calm embrace. </i>
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                          <i>
                            <i>Something George couldn’t see, however, was a singular text message appearing on his phone. </i>
                          </i>
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                          <i>
                            <i>‘Still alive.’</i>
                          </i>
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